


Moonlight Sonata

by Mansaeboysbe



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Royalty AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 03:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mansaeboysbe/pseuds/Mansaeboysbe
Summary: A shy smile appears on his lips before he says, “I’m not exactly supposed to be in here.”“Well, neither am I,” you reply, gathering your heavy skirt and sitting on the edge of the bench beside him, “but here I am.” (Royal!AU)





	Moonlight Sonata

**Author's Note:**

> -Admin Bee

Making rounds around the ballroom and conversing with guests grows old quickly and you find yourself slipping around the crowd to hide against the back wall. The silk ballgown that’s practically swallowing you has never felt heavier and you want nothing more than to escape to your bedroom and rid of the garment as soon as possible, switching into your favorite sweatpants and the biggest t-shirt you owned. With another sweep around the room with your eyes, you realize that escaping would be easier now that you’ve greeted everyone. You take cautious side steps along the wall, attempting to blend in with the grand burgundy curtains until you’re able to slip out unnoticed, nabbing a few sweets from the dessert table and tucking them into the top layer of your skirt before dashing.

With everyone else in the ballroom, the hallways of the palace are completely empty. You breathe easier out in the open, without someone’s eyes constantly on you. You’re practically skipping down the empty corridor in search of an empty room to slump on the floor and stuff your face with the confections you stole when suddenly the sound of soft piano music stops you in your tracks.

It’s coming from a room further down the hall from you, the one you recognize as the other formal celebratory space. The ballroom is smaller than the one that’s currently holding a party and, from what you remember, a baby grand piano is the centerpiece of the room. Cautiously you walk towards the room and peek into the doorway to locate the source of the sound.

Someone is sitting with their back to you, carefully pressing down the keys to form the melody of a song you can vaguely remember. It’s nostalgic in a way that pokes at the back of your mind like there was something important you were supposed to remember but time got in the way. You stay slumped against the back of the door, listening to the soft notes as you wrack your brain for reason.

You’re so lost in thought you almost miss the way the melody has grown bolder, crescendoing in both volume and intensity with each measure. At some point you slip into the room, still hovering in the doorway to avoid disturbing the musician as they stay bowed over the instrument, lost in concentration and completely oblivious to the world outside the music. It’s beautiful, entirely captivating, and you almost forget why you were running away from the ballroom in the first place. It’s as if you were meaning to come here all along.

Their hands come to rest on the keys and you step further into the room to speak up for the first time, “That was beautiful.”

The piano player looks up and meets your gaze in the reflection of the window on the other side of the room for a moment before rapidly turning around on the piano bench, nearly falling off in the process. He stumbles over his words, the elegance and grace from playing the piano disappearing in your, now known, presence. You stifle a laugh with the back of your hand.

“Oh my gosh, Princess, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I wasn’t- erm…”

“Youngjae, it’s alright, I loved it.”

He stops stuttering to stare up at you, an expression reminiscent of the young boy you used to play with in the garden back before responsibility took priority and you were just two childhood best friends getting grass stains on your knees. He’s matured significantly since then, time sharpening his features into the young man that now sits before you, but it’s left his eyes as wide and curious as ever. You used to tease him as a child about his face resembling an otter, and you smile at the notion that your comparison still stands after all these years.

“I should, um, be going.” He squirms under your watchful gaze, turning back towards the piano and shuffling the sheet music into a neat pile.

Swiftly you come up beside him and press your hand against his shoulder, making him look up at you in question, “Why are you leaving?”

A shy smile appears on his lips before he says, “I’m not exactly supposed to be in here.”

“Well, neither am I,” you reply, gathering your heavy skirt and sitting on the edge of the bench beside him, “but here I am.”

“Pardon my question, but isn’t the party down there being held in your honor?”

You wave your hand in the direction of the ballroom where the grand event is taking place, “They won’t miss me.”

The truth of the statement tastes bitter on your tongue, so you quickly turn back to the row of black and white keys in front of you, “Will you play something else? Please?”

There’s a moment where it seems Youngjae will refuse but it passes quickly as he sighs and resumes a playing position, fingers hovering over the instrument in waiting.

“Sorry, it’s… been a while since I’ve played for anyone else.”

“Do you still remember the one you used to play, back when we were teenagers?”

A fleeting memory of an earlier time passes through your mind, of a boy and a girl sitting next to each other at the same piano before you now. A warm, summer breeze floated in from the open windows, giving the curtains life and making them seemingly sway to the melody being played. You remember how close you had sat on that day, the way your legs bumped together on occasion when he swung them mindlessly. Your fingers brushed over one another when he sat back from the keys, looking over to you for a critique. A sudden rush of boldness had overtaken you, and you had leaned over to press a firm kiss to his cheek before retreating back to your side of the bench. His face had flushed bright pink but before either of you could say anything, you were being called to opposite side of the castle by your parents to work. It was one of the last memories you had of him.

He quickly glances towards the door, most likely listening for any signs of someone coming down the hall, of potentially catching the two of you: the runaway princess and the kitchen boy who’d taught himself to play the piano. Only when he’s satisfied by the silence does he turn back around. He reaches out, fingers hesitating over the keys before he’s looking sheepishly over to you.

“You may have to give me a minute to remember it.”

You smile, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder, “We’ve got time.”


End file.
